The Dance
by EmmeElle
Summary: After Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ron and Hermione share a moment on the dance floor. Harry and Ginny, meanwhile, talk through some issues of thier own. HG, RHr


Author's note: I know there's very little plot here. It's feel-good fluff! This is also the first fanfic I've written in quite some time, but I really wanted to write a simple scene that resolves these two stories. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: the usual stuff applies.

A BIG thanks to reader Ally for pointing out a stupid oversight on my part.

The Dance

"And now," said the officiator with a slight air of ceremony, "you may touch wands."

Standing next to Bill among his other brothers (minus Percy), Ron watched as Bill removed his oaken wand from the pocket of his navy robes and held it outstretched in front of him. Madam Pomfrey had really done a good job on him. Scars still disrupted his handsome features, but he was once again recognizable as the handsome boy he had been before the battle at Hogwarts.

Fleur, as always, looked incredible. Her willowy frame was draped in flowing white robes and her goblin-made silver tiara glinted in the setting sun as she turned and accepted her wand from her sister. She caressed the wand in her slender fingers and took a deep breath before extending it toward Bill's.

When the tips of their wands touched, a collective gasp arose from the wedding party and the onlookers. Sparks had immediately begun to spew from the point of connection and fill the air above the ceremony.

Ron had heard of muggle fireworks, and he imagined that this must be what they looked like. Jets of light soared overhead, dipping and diving and twisting in various colors, for several minutes, seeming only to grow brighter in the ever-darkening sky.

Ron took the opportunity, while the dazzling lights had everyone's attention, to look out at the small crowd. His eyes, of course, landed on her.

Hermione. Seated next to his mother, who was unsurprisingly crying, she was wearing scarlet robes and her hair was swept up loosely, a peaceful smile on her face.

Hermione. They had had a moment - Ron was sure of it - the previous week at Dumbledore's funeral. Paralyzed with grief, she had rested her head on his shoulder and Ron, in what he considered one of his bravest moments, had reached around her and begun stroking her hair.

But though Ron could still feel the tickle of her hair against his neck, though he could still feel her thin frame shudder with sobs, there was a part of him that was convinced, as he looked at her sitting next to his mother, that he had simply made it all up.

He continued to watch her as the lights in the sky lined up single-file and began to circle around Bill and Fleur, faster and faster, until the two of them were completely enveloped in a tube of white light. Finally, the lights faded out and disappeared. Still, Ron's eyes were on Hermione.

The wedding party had moved to the garden for one of Mrs. Weasley's feasts and a simple reception under the stars. Hermione swallowed the last of her cake and tilted her face up toward the evening sky, allowing a warm summer breeze to brush her face. It was hard to believe, under the veil of happiness that seemed to cover the lawn at the Burrow, that Voldemort was out there, his soul in pieces but very much alive and strong.

A light melody began to play and Hermione looked around for a source for the sound, but couldn't find any. The music seemed to emanate from the stars themselves. Several couples drifted onto the makeshift dance floor that had been conjured on the grass, among them, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Instinctively, Hermione looked around for Ron, hoping and almost expecting to see him walking toward her, but she couldn't spot him. Sighing, Hermione turned her eyes toward her friend Ginny. Ginny was watching Bill and Fleur twirl around the dance floor with a wistful, almost desperate look on her face. Hermione thought she knew what Ginny must be feeling. She had known Ginny for five years, and had never known anyone else to feel the kind of love that Ginny felt for Harry Potter. Ginny, she knew, wanted nothing more that to be a part of all that was Harry, the good and the bad.

As Hermione watched her, Ginny's eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away fiercely. Then, as if having reached a sudden decision, she turned and walked right past where Hermione stood to the other side of the garden, where Harry sat alone on a concrete bench, picking at his fingernails. He looked up as Ginny neared and recoiled slightly as she reached for his hand. Unabashed, Ginny reached for his hand again, saying something as she did so, and Harry nodded and allowed her to lead him onto the dance floor.

Transfixed, Hermione continued to watch the scene playing out before her, half-wanting to move closer so she could hear their conversation, half-feeling guilty about watching already. Ginny and Harry had begun to move in slow circles on the floor, seemingly oblivious to anything going on around them. Ginny was talking and had a ghost of a smile on her face, but Hermione noticed that her knuckles were white from holding on so tightly to the Boy Who Lived. Hermione understood this, too. She may not have been in love with Harry in the way that Ginny was, but that didn't mean she didn't share the fear that she would awaken one morning and Harry would be gone without a trace.

"It's nice, isn't it?" said a familiar voice in her ear. Hermione ignored the shivers rolling down her spine.

"What's that?" she asked.

"That we can all be together like this one last time, forget about everything if only for a few hours, and just enjoy it, you know?" Hermione glanced over at Ron and he nodded toward Harry and Ginny.

"Yes; it is nice," Hermione agreed.

"Yeah..." Ron trailed off.

Inwardly, Hermione sighed frustratedly. In some ways, she wished Ron could be more like Harry. She would never forget the sight of Harry taking Ginny into his arms and kissing her after returning from his detention. Why couldn't Ron be more assertive? Why couldn't he just tell her how he felt, or, at the very least, ask her to-?

"Hermione, dance with me?" Ron's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Almost unable to believe her ears, Hermione nodded and let Ron lead her onto the floor.

"You should know, I'm leaving tomorrow." Harry said the words suddenly and quickly, as though he had been working up the nerve for some time. Ginny didn't react. She had known it was coming. Instead, she let the words fill her, allowed herself to picture Harry going off in search of Voldemort, alone, armed only with his wand, six years of magical training, and the desire that Ginny knew consumed him. All the while, she never stopped moving to the music.

Finally, she looked up and met Harry's eyes. "I know," she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly thrown off by her lack of argument. "So, it's ok...?" he ventured.

"Harry," said Ginny calmly, "I can't tell you what to do. I'm not your mother or your wife, and even if I were I doubt I would be able influence that hard head of yours." Harry laughed softly, and Ginny allowed him a moment to think that he would really get off so easily before she continued. "The problem, Harry," she began, "is that you can't tell me what to do either. And I'm just as hard-headed as you are. Perhaps more so."

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm coming with you. And I'm sure Ron and Hermione will be, as well. You've never been able to get rid of us, Harry, though God knows you've tried."

Harry reacted just as Ginny suspected he would. His eyes widened and he looked at her with a mixture of anger, fear, and (was it possible?) hope.

"Sshhhh," Ginny said, brushing her thumb gently across his lips, "Don't argue, just keep dancing."

"It really was a beautiful ceremony, wasn't it, Ron? Ron?"

Hermione was talking. Somewhere in his mind, Ron registered that. What she was actually saying, however, was anyone's guess. Ron's ears weren't listening. His other senses were overloaded with the smell of her hair mingling with the late-blooming flowers, the feel of her small hand in his and her head against his shoulder, the perfect view of the smooth, pail skin of her neck and shoulders, the taste of nervous bile rising in his throat.

"Hrm?" he managed.

"The wedding," Hermione repeated, "It was beautiful."

"Yes. Beautiful..."

"It's strange, isn't it? I mean it's nice, but it's strange." Hermione seemed to be talking more to herself than to Ron. Nevertheless, she had gotten his attention.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Just this, today. We're all here, celebrating for Bill and Fleur, enjoying the evening, dancing, and somewhere out there," Hermione lifted her head and gazed into the distance, as if she could see him, "Voldemort is alive; our world is at war."

"Mm," Ron said. It really was strange, under this bubble of music and happiness, to imaging the most feared wizard in the world alive and well, probably killing someone or at least plotting to, at that very moment. Hermione's head returned to Ron's shoulder and they each lapsed into silence, letting their thoughts drift with the notes of the music into the night air.

Five years ago, Ron had come face-to-face with the idea of sacrificing himself for another. On that giant chessboard, he had gotten his first taste of what it was like to understand his own value in the world, had realized that he had none if he weren't willing to give anything and everything he could for the greater good.

Now, Ron took solace in that decision and knew, especially after watching his best friend give up nearly everything (happiness, privacy, love) for that cause, that if the time came when he would again have to find the courage needed to give himself up, he could do it without hesitation. Ron was fully aware that Harry would be setting off in the near future, perhaps tomorrow, to fulfill what had been his destiny since birth. Ron was also fully aware that he was going, too, whether Harry liked it or not. And he knew in his soul that if it came down to it, if it were necessary for him to die so that Harry could live to continue the fight, he would consider it an honor to stand in the way of any curse.

But there was something that bothered Ron about the idea that he might die soon. It seemed a shame, a tragedy even, to end his young life when there was something crucial that he hadn't experienced.

Ron looked down at the girl - no, woman - in his arms and knew that he loved her. In that moment, with the threat of pain, death, and loss so far away yet simultaneously right in front of him, he had never been surer of anything. Granted, she annoyed him sometimes. She could be so controlling, so nosy, so jealous.

_Jealous? _It hadn't occurred to Ron until that very moment. He had thought she had been so upset over his "relationship" with Lavender simply because it meant she didn't have an edge on him anymore, but suddenly it seemed so clear.

Jealous. Ron liked the way the word sounded, even in his head. What had been going through her mind that night she had returned to the common room to find him in Lavender's embrace? Had she been wishing she were in Lavender's place?

Ron looked down at Hermione. Almost instinctually, she looked back up at him. Her deep brown eyes met his blue ones and Ron felt something electric shoot through his body. He couldn't explain it, wasn't aware of even doing it, but in that moment, he made a decision, one from which he knew there would be no going back, not that he would want to. And in that moment, as he looked down at the beautiful woman who had grown from the bossy, awkward girl he had met on the Hogwarts Express six years ago, gathering his thoughts so that he wouldn't mess up this sure-to-be pivotal moment in his young life, Ron felt no fear, no uncertainty, no reluctance. Instead, he felt a sense of urgency and awe.

"Hermione," he said, amazed at how sure and clear the words sounded, "I have something to say to you. Please don't speak until I finish."

"You can't," Harry said at length, reluctant to break the almost peaceful silence that had settled between himself and Ginny after her declaration. "I want you to be safe."

"Harry," Ginny said coolly (clearly, she had been planning what to say for a while now), "I know you. I know you don't want to accept help and I know you can't bear the thought of endangering your friends. It's part of that hero complex you have, which is one of the things that attracts me to you. I know what you're feeling, but I want you to be logical. You owe it to the wizarding world to be as smart as you can here. After all, you're their only hope."

"No, Ginny!" Her calmness annoyed Harry. Why couldn't she see that he wanted, _needed_ her to stay behind, to be safe? He took a deep breath and looked at her as steadily as he could. "I wasn't completely truthful to you before. I said that I wanted us to be apart to protect you. And that's true, at least partially. But the real reason I wanted us to be apart, to stop seeing each other, was to avoid exactly this. You can't come with me, Ginny. I need you to stay, and keep yourself safe."

"Why?" Ginny asked, and Harry was strangely relieved to hear a note of indignation creep into her voice. "Why? So you can sleep better at night, thinking you're protecting me? I don't need protection, Harry. I need _you_. I need to be with you. And that's all I need." Her eyes brightened slightly with threatening tears and she blinked them back. Harry wasn't sure which hurt more, the fact that he was making her cry or the fact that she still felt she had to be strong for him.

"Ginny, that's not why I wanted you to stay behind. Not exactly. I do want you to stay safe, but not to ease my conscience. I need you to be alive and well so that I - " Harry choked slightly. He was almost ashamed to finish his sentence, "so that I have someone to come home to."

Ginny blinked. Clearly, that was not the response she had expected. This time, she didn't stop the tears. They spilled silently over her lower lids and rolled down her face, leaving wet tracks on her cheeks. Harry resisted the urge to kiss them away.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered. She didn't speak for many minutes. The pair continued to dance, as song after song bled seamlessly into the next. Harry held her close, hoping against hope that she was now seeing things his way and would protest no further.

Hermione's heart was beating so hard that she was sure Ron could feel it. He had something to tell her. Dare she hope that it was the words she had been longing to hear for years? The words that she herself had wanted to say time and time again?

Ron was looking right at her, clearly expecting some sort of assent before he continued. Hermione granted it.

"O - Ok," she stammered, "I won't interrupt."

"Ok," said Ron. "Here goes." In the last moment of silence that preceded his speech, Ron smiled warmly at her. It was a smile that spoke volumes to Hermione. It told her that all the animosity of the previous year was forgotten and that she had nothing to worry about. It told her that his coming speech was one she indeed wanted to hear, and it told her that, no matter what happened after this dance ended, when the morning sun shone on a day full of uncertainty, everything would be alright.

"Hermione, the thing is, I have no clue what's about to happen. I have a feeling that we're both about to be in more danger than we've ever imagined. I know there's a big possibility that we're going to meet Voldemort sometime very soon. I know that everything has changed. But the incredible thing is: I'm not scared. I'm not even a little afraid. I'm not afraid because you're here, and you will be. And as crazy as it sounds, I feel almost invincible, like nothing can happen to me, when you're around, and even if something does, it's ok because nothing can ever take away the fact that you were in my life and you were one of my best friends." Ron paused slightly and swallowed before continuing. "Hermione, the only thing that scares me even a little is the idea that I might die without having a chance to tell you how I feel, or that you might die before I have a chance to know if you feel the same way."

He stopped and looked at her intently. Hermione felt extremely light-headed and dizzy, as though intoxicated by his words. She was almost sure she had imagined it all. It couldn't be possible that, after five years of dancing around each other, it all came down to this. Yet Hermione knew in her heart that it did. All Ron had needed was a push, and apparently the prospect of facing Voldemort was just enough. Hermione met Ron's eyes without hesitation. As she looked at him, her erratic heart rate slowed. The dizziness stopped. It was suddenly very simple and very clear. Either way, they were going to set out on an extremely dangerous mission. Either way, they were going to face Voldemort. Either way, there was the possibility they wouldn't return. It was simply a matter of whether they were together or apart, right here tonight.

"Ron," Hermione said, "Thank you." It seemed to be enough. More words, thought Hermione, would only take away from the beauty of what had already been said and, more importantly, the words that were already understood, that didn't need to be said.

Ron's eyebrows raised in a silent question. When Hermione nodded, his face visibly relaxed and settled into a content smile.

Ginny let Harry hold her in silence for a while longer. The argument wasn't over, but she wasn't yet ready to lose the feeling that Harry's words had given her. The sky was quite dark now. How long they had been dancing was anyone's guess, but the music was still playing and the air was still warm, so Ginny had no qualms. They could stay there until morning as far as she was concerned. Eventually, it was Harry whose voice broke through the music first.

"So it's settled then?" he asked tentatively, "you'll stay behind."

Ginny smiled at him. "Oh, Harry, it would be nice if it were that simple, wouldn't it?"

Hermione's nod had been enough. It might have been nice for her to respond with a speech as heartfelt and honest as his had been, but it was all there on her face.

"So, uh, does that mean - ?" he asked. He was pretty sure he understood what had just happened, but he had misunderstood Hermione on more than one occasion. It couldn't hurt to make sure.

"Yes, Ron, that's what it means," she said with a smile that lingered somewhere between amusement and contentment.

" - That you and I are... ehm... we're -"

"Yes, Ron," said Hermione, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "Now are you going to keep talking or are you going to do something about it?"

Ron stopped talking abruptly and looked intently down at Hermione. Her lips parted beneath his gaze. Was he supposed to kiss her now? It made sense, and it was something Ron had thought about for years, but he couldn't help hesitating. What if, despite all he had learned through his experiences with Lavender, he didn't match up to Krum? How could he? He was just Ron Weasley, after all. And, worse still, what if she didn't actually want him to kiss her? What if he planted one on her and she just stood there looking shocked? How could he ever face her again? How could he -

But before Ron could finish the thought, Hermione moved her chin upward. Almost imperceptibly, she straightened her back and lifted her heels off the ground so that her face was that much closer to his.

Taking the hint, Ron took a deep breath and bent his head.

And he kissed her, gently at first, allowing himself to grow accustomed to the feel of her lips on his. Then she made a small noise - of pleasure, Ron hoped - and he let go of his inhibitions and let himself dissolve in the moment he had been anticipating for so long.

"Ginny," Harry was exasperated now. He had opened his heart, told her that thing he had been afraid to admit even to himself, and she was still being stubborn.

"Harry," she addressed him matter-of-factly, "You're planning on leaving here tomorrow and doing what?"

Harry balked.

"Um, finding and destroying the rest of the horcruxes," even as Harry said the words aloud, the mantra ran though his head. _The locket, the cup, the snake, something from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor._

"So let's say you find them all. Let's say, by some miracle, you manage to find and destroy all of them, completely by yourself without getting killed or maimed... Then what?"

Was she actually asking him this? Surely she knew _then what_. It was only the moment his entire life had been leading up to.

"Then I face Voldemort," he said, looking at her suspiciously.

"Oh yeah," she replied without hesitating, "And how do you expect to beat him. You haven't even finished school yet! How do you - someone who's only known about magic for six years - expect to defeat one of the most powerful wizards the world has ever seen? It's impossible, Harry. You just can't do it!"

Instantly, Harry's blood boiled. Ginny, of all people, was telling him that she couldn't do what he simply had to do. She had to know how unconfident that he himself felt in his ability to complete the tasks laid before him, yet she wasn't offering any encouragement or optimism; she was merely making him feel worse.

"That's not true," said Harry half-heartedly, "I have power he knows not. The prophecy said so. Dumbledore said so."

Ginny arched an eyebrow, looking at him with a victorious smirk on her face, and Harry finally saw her point.

"You do?" she asked, in fake surprise, "and what, pray tell, is this power?"

"Love," said Harry. He cast his eyes downward, ashamed of falling into the trap, but he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping across his face.

"Exactly," said Ginny, losing all pretenses and speaking with complete seriousness, "And as much as you may not want to believe, Harry Potter, _I love you_. And so do Ron and Hermione. And I'd be willing to bet all of Fred and George's earnings that you feel the same way about us. So we're going with you, Harry. Your best chance is with all of us there! Do you get it now?"

Harry pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, and reveled in the words she had spoken. He let them fill the night, surround him, and give him his first real taste of hope.

"Be ready in the morning," he told her finally.

Across the dance floor, he saw Ron and Hermione swirling slowly, looking at each other as if there were no one else on the planet. That was good, Harry thought, they were going to need all of the love they could handle.


End file.
